


Signed, Desmond

by Ichorite



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22754338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichorite/pseuds/Ichorite
Summary: Clay gave Desmond a pen and book while they were trapped in the Animus. So Desmond writes letters to people long past his time in hopes he'd feel better about himself, and he receives replies.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 148





	1. Feeling like a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of wanted all the assassin in modern time but I don't know how to start so I settled for writing letters. It's my first time writing a fic and I apologise if the characters seem off.

Demond stood within the depths of the animus next to Clay. He had killed Lucy, under Juno’s control. It was his weak mind that led them to this. Yet, all he could do now is continue to stare blankly out at the floating black crystals on the strange shore he was stranded upon.

A shove to his back and Desmond stumbled a couple of steps forward, whipping around he frowned at Clay who was grinning at him. “You look like you needed to talk or y’know sob on someone’s shoulder. Sadly I can’t do that for you.” Desmond simply rolled his eyes, “what are you trying to-“ his sentence was cut off when Clay shoved a strange thin object in front of his face.

It was a pen, but it looked to be crafted from the precursor civilization. Desmond was immediately wary of the tool while Clay was insistently shoving it at him. “They say this pen can let you send messages to anyone anywhere at anytime. Don’t ask me anything about it, I just know it works okay? Now go write your heart out to some poor soul and maybe they’ll give you a reply.”

Clay finally threw the pen at Desmond when he refused to touch it, leaving Desmond to fumble with the object he caught out of instinct. A book came flying at his head next, where Clay got his hands on such things is a mystery. Before Desmond could protest, Clay was gone. Not really wanting to relive Ezio’s life currently, he walked around until he could find a boulder to lean against. Was he really going to write a letter, he’s in the animus, there’s only him and Clay and their slowly deteriorating sanities.

Fuck it, he’s so far down this insanity path what does writing a letter make a difference. Desmond opened the journal to the first page and started scribbling.

To whoever finds this,  
Frankly speaking, I don’t know what I’m doing. A weirdo told me to write a letter to someone with this pen and journal he gave me, I don’t believe him but I’m already insane so who cares. I just want to say my life is pretty awful right now. I was forced to kill someone important to me. I don’t think my friends can forgive me for this.

Signed,  
Desmond

Ezio stared at the letter he had found on his study table. Was this the Desmond the goddess at the ancient temple addressed, is he not from the future? How did a letter from Desmond reach here?

The master assassin looked around, nothing seem to indicate his room was infiltrated, he did wipe out the Borgia but there could be other enemies. Leaning forward he picked up the letter for closer inspection, the paper was sharp, clean and so white Ezio couldn’t help but marvel the sheet. It’s much more refined than the paper they have and the ink on it was much thinner than their pens. Perhaps this really was a letter from the future and Desmond found a way to communicate, though he doesn’t seem to believe so himself.

He picked up his own pen, stared at Desmond‘s handwriting before flipping the paper over to its blank side and writing on it.

Desmond,  
I believe this weirdo may be correct, I have received your message. I am sorry for the loss of your close companion, always cherish those memories you have of them. Your friends may be more understanding than you think, you should talk to them at least.

If I may ask, are you the Desmond the goddess from the temple speak of?  
Signed,  
Ezio

Ezio folded the letter and placed it back on the table on the same spot. The next day it was gone.


	2. Dark skies ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something shorter because it didn't fit with the other text I have

The first thing Desmond tried to do when he saw Clay was to tell him to stop, he waved the aged piece of paper with Ezio's handwriting at the other. “I know you’re the one who replied to my letter pretending to be Ezio-“

“Whoa! Whoa! Buddy, are you seriously that dumb? Why the fuck would I want to play as Ezio and -I don’t know, say whatever the letter said?” Clay leaned forward and poked Desmond on the chest, “the pen works, alright? Stop questioning it.”

Desmond watch as Clay stomped away, “how did you find out it works?” Clay stopped, “I talked to my future self before y’know, everything my future self said came true.” The dead subject whipped a finger up before Desmond can respond, "why didn't future me try to change our outcome? Simple, future me found the pen too late. Any attempts we tried to change our future was just not enough." Clay stuffed his hand back in his pocket and continued to distance himself from Desmond.

Desmond tried to write a letter to his future self, there was no response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by The Darker The Weather // The Better The Man by MISSIO  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2IIppdumOE


	3. Stay strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just spitting out all the stuff I've written because I know I'll forget if I don't

To Altaïr,  
This is Desmond, we’ve never met but I’m from the future. I am actually your descendant way far down the line but I doubt that means anything to you. I just wanted to write a message and hope it gets to you early. Someone told me this letter will reach you somehow, through the use of some precursor technology bullshit. It doesn’t seem to do anything like the apple of Eden, just transfers messages through time or something.

Be careful of Al Mualim and Abbas. You're probably aware of what the apple does to the wielder, it corrupts and tempts the mind to submit to it. (The rest of the message was furiously scratched out) I just realised I don’t know when this will get to you, so this is just a word of warning and encouragement. I don't want to share too much in case it changes the future.

You have it rough out there but you look like someone who will see it to the end.

So whatever happens, just stay strong and do whatever you plan to do. 

Signed,  
Desmond

Had the letter come any earlier Altaïr would have thrown it away, thinking it was some sort of joke. However, Al Mualim is gone, Abbas holds reign over Masayaf and he lies alone in bed. The letter gleams under the moonlight by the window, Altaïr stared at it a little longer before pushing himself up and off the bed. The paper was highly refined and had an incredibly smooth surface, brushing his hand lightly over the paper he could feel the grooves the letters left. This Desmond presses on the paper hard. Altaïr read the letter again and thought about the apple of Eden.

He began looking for a pen.

Desmond,

Your warning has come too late. Abbas has Masayaf now, what remains of my family and I we have left. It is unfortunate the future could not save me from this unfortunate circumstances. Neither do I believe you to be from the future, even with this 'precursor' technology.

However, I will humor you. If you truly are from the future, tell me what I will do next.

I already know what I will do.

Altaïr

Desmond was stumped, he may have lived some of Altaïr life but not that long. He pondered about what to say as he went back to reliving Ezio’s late life in the animus. There he found his answer and was freed, without Clay. When Desmond finally pulled himself off the red chair he tried to look around for the pen and book but was greatly disappointed to find out it really was in his head. The team of assassins traveled to the grand temple, while Desmond was exploring the strange architecture he noticed something familiar. The thin object was very worn looking but he picked it up and kept it nonetheless.

Shaun was very annoyed to have one of his spare notebooks taken.

The message came on a fresh new letter the next day after Altaïr had replied. He kept the letter and did not reply, but he believed Desmond did come from the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay by The Score  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hddMXZHHR0M


	4. I rather not know the answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late disclaimer; I may have mixed up stuff- thats what I get when I marathon AC cutscenes  
> Hopefully it doesnt mess this series too much

Ezio wanted to speak to Desmond, his mind filled with questions unanswered since he left the temple. However, it has been weeks and he have not received a letter since his last reply, Ezio wouldn’t admit but he was slightly disappointed their conversation did not continue and cursed himself for not asking for answers when he had the opportunity to do so. Perhaps Desmond would have been more inclined to reply if he did.

Two days later a crisp white sheet of paper was at his study.

Hey Ezio,

I am that Desmond. So I guess you found the temple with Minerva huh. I just want to say, sorry. I feel like you and everyone else are left in the dark not understanding what all this is for. Everything you’ve done is for saving the future. There’s a solar flare coming, everything we’ve done is to ensure it won’t destroy us again. Pretty sure Minerva already said this in the temple. Frankly speaking, I don’t want to deal with this end of the world bullshit and I hope this mess ends soon.

Signed,

Desmond

Now with the letter in hand, Ezio’s mind was blank. All the questions in his head had all disappeared, so many questions but which to ask first? The assassin left the letter where it was, leaving his study to go on with his business as he pondered about what to say. Another letter came the next day.

To Ezio,

I’m still in denial you know, about being forced to kill that important someone. I want to believe I did it because I knew she would turn against us, but I don’t know if the apple of Eden was really showing me the future if she stayed alive. Or was I being tricked. What does it matter now, right? She’s gone. I should move on.

Signed,

Desmond

Ezio never replied to either.


	5. Way Down we go

The first time Connor received the strange letter was just after his village was burnt down. His heart still ache and his eyes felt raw. The handwriting was inconsistent and shaky, letters were smudged by water droplets at the bottom of the paper

Ratonhnhaké:ton,

Im sorry I wish I was there to help but I couldnt all I could do was watch Im

S ned,

Des

The sky started to drizzle and Connor wondered if it rains where his mother was.

Connor continued to receive short letters from a man named Desmond, the messages were vague and random. It was always comparing his time to the future. Perhaps, Desmond was like the woman he saw in the crystal orb, an omnipresent being. He was certain of this when Desmond wrote that Achilles would teach him soon and he shouldn't give up, the old mentor took him in on that night. They went to the town soon after.

The sound of gunshots and screams still rings loud in his ear, he could almost see the horror that unfold in Boston right in front of him. He really doesn't know what to think of his father now, and seems like neither does Desmond.

Connor,

Y'know I was only gonna say he was a dick but now...

I'm just kind of horrified one man is capable of doing that without feeling guilt. I watched him for a while before you, I had thought he was an assassin. One of us.

I don't know where I was going with that message...

Signed,

Desmond

When Haytham offered a truce and Connor agreed, he was expecting an angry letter to him the next day. Desmond has usually been on the same page with him, there was little the omnipresent being disagreed on. So he could understand if Desmond finally voiced his disapproval at working with a Templar, family or not. There was nothing. Not even after Church was taken down and there was no reason for the truce to continue since the target was dead. The assassin doesn't believe Desmond had just up and disappeared on him, he knows he is watching. It was only after talking to Achilles about a possible future with Templars and Assassins working together did he receive another letter.

To Connor,

Do you think we could really achieve freedom and peace if we worked with the Templars? I watched you and Haytham butt heads so many times it seems unlikely, but you seem determined to make this work. Was that why you saved him from the fire? In hopes that this won't have to end with more blood?

An alternate ending where less people die... I'd like that.

Signed,

Desmond

P.S You should throw your father in the water again, that was hilarious

Connor killed Haytham, it was disappointing and albeit painful that he could not reconnect with his father. Guess it was simply not possible for him, but perhaps the future generation might be able to do it. No letter from Desmond too, maybe because it was too inconvenient now. He's just been running and running after Lee's trail, never once stopping to rest. Would Desmond have something to say about this, that he was too idealistic to think the Templars and the Assassins were two halves of a whole. Would Desmond be disappointed that not one less soul could be spared from him. Or would Desmond not mention anything about it, already knowing the outcome way before him. Connor kept running.

Lee is dead, he tries not to think about what it took to get him here.

He buries the key into the grave as he was told and never looked back.

Pushing the door open to the Davenport manor he stared at the dim interior. The lights were all out and it didn’t make him feel any better. Left alone, the assassin slowly made his way to his room to rest. He stopped short at the entrance of his room, a letter at the corner of his bed.

To Connor,

I like the way you think, believing that there is a possibility of a better ending and I wish there was. But I don't know if there is, I can only believe you're the best the past has got to offer for the future. Thank you, I'm glad I got to know you. Guess it’s my turn to do my part now.

Signed,

Desmond

Connor folded the letter neatly and placed it at one corner of his desk. He walks out of the manor a few minutes later to pull the hatchet out from its post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sad Desmond died and I want to punch the text formatting  
> Where are all these friggin blank spaces coming from???


	6. Let's try again

It took one generation after another from multiple bloodlines to get to here, everyone all playing a part to connect the lines. Intertwining the strands together and forming a web of lies, a perfect trap created by Juno for everyone to lie in with Desmond in the center. "Was it really worth all that trouble." He muttered, staring at the pedestal with Juno and Minerva watching him.

The ground is shaking and the rumbling noise grows louder every passing second. There wasn't much time let but all Desmond could think was how many people were involved in setting the future, in setting up his death. It was not their fault, how could they have known. Everyone was let around blindly, kept in the dark about the real truth. Juno continues to urge Desmond to 'save' the world while Minerva snaps at her.

Looking up, his eyes dart between the two Isu before realising there was a third person.

Clay.

He was standing inbetween the two ancients grinning at him, they don't seem to notice his presence. A hallucination then, this doesn't have the same quirk as the bleeding effect. Or well, it doesn't look like its the bleeding effect. The snapping of fingers brings Desmond attention back to focusing on Clay, the hallucination stopped snapping his fingers and Clay fights the grin on his face to purse his lips. The ghost raised his index finger to his mouth, hushing the assassin. While the ancients were too busy throwing harsh words at each other, Desmond can focus on the phantom.

The ghost would not speak a word, merely raising one arm forward and the other hand pinched together. Clay placed his pinched fingers to his forearm, he was writing. Eyes widening at the meaning, Desmond unconsciously touched the outside of his pocket where the pen was. Looking down, he pulled out the object which hasn't changed from its worn out look. It had been used to pass the time, to make himself feel useful to his ancestors even though he knew nothing he wrote would have changed anything.

It wouldn't change anything, would it?  
  
What if it could.

"Desmond?" Minerva spoke, she stared at the pen with a strange look on her face. Desmond's eyes flicked to Juno who seem conflicted, then to where Clay once stood- gone again. Holding onto the pen tightly, he tugged his sleeve up to expose his skin. It's not as good as writing on paper but it will do. The assassin looked at Minerva and began to write a letter on his arm. By the time he had finished his message, the temple was halfway to ruin. The magnitude of the solar flare was about to reach its peak. Hopeful brown eyes looked at Minerva whos expression still remains undetermined.

Well, that was disappointing, maybe it was too late to change history. A bitter smile briefly passed his lips, he tried. Raising his free hand, the writing on his arm flaked off his skin as he touched the pedestal. With one last look at the two standing before him, Desmond realised Minerva's expression was one of determination.

His arm blackens and his vision goes white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the ending! I'm just trying to move on from letter writing cuz I want more interaction than just Desmond being pen pals with his ancestors


	7. Leap of time

An assassin dressed in white stood over an unconscious body lying in the sparse tufts of grass next to a tree.

The chattering of conversations from civilians were distant and it was only a coincidence that Altair stumbled upon finding the man. The stranger was curled on his side facing the tree, face hidden by a white hood. There are no other assassins who wear a white hood other than Altair himself, a monk? Yet this monk is dressed so strangely, a foreigner then.

Raising his left leg, he nudged the body with his toes. No response. So he dug his toes into the man’s side. Still nothing, unconscious then. Altair knelt down to hover his hand over the man’s shoulder, he could feel warmth radiating while the body was under shade. The stranger was not breathing at all, his chest was completely still. Could be a dead body, but there was no blood. Altair would have left the body alone by now but the clothing was still a mystery. He finally let his hand drop to grab the still warm body by the shoulder to turn it onto its back.

The assassin nearly kicked the corpse in its face in his haste to distance himself from the body. The features were almost similar to his own, there was even a scar in nearly the exact same location on his lip. Altair resisted the urge to touch his own face, he did not want to validate what he was seeing. He should return to the bureau and ask Malik of this, but he knew the Dai will want more than words. Resigned, Altair bent down to heave the corpse on his shoulder and began the tedious walk back.

When Malik heard the arrival of an assassin he expected the person to come to him immediately. Instead he heard the puff of cushions being rapidly compressed and the Dai looked up to see the assassin dressed in white sprawled on the cushions. Irritation flared up within him and he stabbed the quill back into the ink pot, this novice is going to get more than an earful this time. Just as he pulled away from his desk another another assassin in white walked through the doorway. Altair. Malik stared at the assassin in front of him then to the stranger on the cushions.

“Care to explain?” Malik asked with a neutral tone, he would have assumed the one by the cushion is a monk judging from the white hood. However the overall attire was strange, the white coat only reached to the man’s waist, the pants had an unusual texture and the shoe design was foreign. “I found the body on my way back, he look like me.” Altair started as Malik walked past him to have a closer look at the stranger, they do look similar.

“The man might be dead- I don’t know, he doesn’t seem to react to anything. He is still warm so he might have recently died.” The assassin continued and Malik nearly rolled his eyes, all the novice knows is alive and dead. Kneeling down, he put his hand just under the man’s nose.

Huh, no breathing.

Yet, there are no visible signs of trauma. No dirt or cut on the cloth to indicate anything touched him. The man look as if he was sleeping soundly. Malik frowned as he stood back up to speak to Altair, “where did you find him?”

Their conversation was interrupted by violent coughing, the man cushioned by pillows rising to cover his mouth as he turned over to his hands and knees. The Dai took a step back in shock as liquid gold splattered out from the stranger’s mouth onto the floor. Malik side eyed Altair who seem just as disturbed by the outcome, shoulders raised slightly in tension. The stranger wiped his mouth and finally looked up to squint at them mumbling to himself, “bleeding effect again?” His accent was foreign, nothing like the Templars or any locals.

Malik pressed his lips together when he finally realised what Altair had done. “You do remember no one is suppose to know of this place, yes? What will you do now? He could be bait set just for you!”

While the assassin and the Dai began to bicker, the stranger continued to squint around at his surroundings. The colors were a lot more vibrant compared to being in the animus, his fingers rub idly on the cushions while staring at the water running from the fountain. Scratchy, the threads were thick and coarse. “This is real isn’t it...” The man looked back at them.

The arguing stopped as they pondered on how to approach the stranger. “Yes, this is real...” Malik answered slowly, “you were found unconscious and brought back here. What is your name? Do you remember what happened?” The stranger blinked before easily answering, “I’m Desmond, I died in the grand temple.”

Unhelpful and strange, Malik was unsure how to proceed after that statement and Desmond continued to look around with mild interest. What grand temple? Was it Solomon’s Temple or was he referring to something else entirely. The Dai was lost in thought trying to piece the odd puzzle together when Altair spoke. “You seem to be very much alive if you’re talking to us.” Yet, Desmond simply frowned at the assassin. “I don’t know how to explain to you that wouldn’t make me look like a lunatic,” he looked down at the ground, “I just know it makes sense to me.”

Altair was losing his patience with the stranger, Malik‘s warning of Desmond being a trap still lingers in his mind. He could not compromise the brotherhood again, Al Mualim will surely do more than demote him. They were getting nowhere with this, Altair took a step forward and the stranger immediately looked at him, more specifically his wrist.

Did he know?

“Well, thanks for the hospitality. I should go now.” Desmond spoke carefully as he slowly stood up to take a step back and began inching to the fountain, not once looking away from Altair’s wrist. Malik looked unsure about letting him off, but Desmond had bolted the minute the Dai opened his mouth. Scaling up the fountain and over the wall so fluidly it was almost impressive. “Follow him,” Malik ordered but Altair was ahead of him, already over the wall by the time he finished speaking.

Tracking down Desmond was easy, his clothing made him stood out like a sore thumb. Altair followed him from the rooftops but his target was smart, slipping into crowded places where people are too busy shoving past each other to notice something unusual slipping past them. Altair would have lost him if he hadn’t use his vision, his target illuminated in gold aura moving deeper and deeper into the crowd. It made the assassin wonder what was so special about the man, he was important that’s for sure.

Desmond’s luck finally ran out when he tripped and stumbled into a hoard of guards. He turned to escape the guards when questioned, forced to take it to the rooftops where civilians would not be involved. Altair couldn’t have the stranger dead, gold aura means importance but it does not always mean it is a target to kill. So he moved forward, jumping from one rooftop to another, closing the distance between him and the fight.

But the time he reached there were only two guards left. The assassin was surprised, there were more than four bodies lying down but with no blades sticking out from them and the roof was not pooling with blood. Altair watched as Desmond picked up a sword from the floor to parry an incoming attack. The blades screeched as the stranger slid his sword down to push the blades away from the dueling pair and lunged forward, shoulder charging the guard in the chest. Desmond cringed as he watched the guard stumble back and slipped off the roof, a chorus of shouts and screams erupted from the ground level. Altair quickly slid up behind the remaining guard to shove his hidden blade into the side of his neck. Leaving the guard to collapse on the floor gurgling in his own blood while Desmond stared, mildly uncomfortable.

"Do not worry, I will not stab you this way." Altair stated, not wanting to ward the stranger away. "Oh, joy." Desmond replied drily, before Altair could continue the sound of more guards shouting reminded them that they were still wanted. Desmond's eyes flicked from the incoming guards to the assasin who was gesturing to follow him. They ran across rooftops with guards hot on their heel, Altair abruptly turned to the right and Desmond nearly tripped on his own feet trying to follow. "Hey wait! Isn't the you-know the other way?" Desmond tried to gesture wildly behind him where the direction of the bureau should be while trying to catch up, the assassin ignored him and simply ran to a hoard of birds.

Feathers drifted in the sky as Altair jumped off the roof, arms spread out in a leap of faith as he plummeted into a pile of hay. The assassin quickly shifted so he was huddled in one side of the hay pile to leave the center clear while waiting for Desmond to jump in. Surely, the stranger would jump. He can fight off guards, he can handle a jump. True enough, a body landed next to him with hay flying high in the air from the rough impact. Altair pressed his lips together, what an ungraceful landing. "Stay in here, wait until they leave." The assassin ordered quietly as the guards starting scouting the area.

Soon the guards left and Altair hopped out of the hay, brushing off the stray strands he spoke again. "You can leave now, the guards are gone." When he was done brushing off the hay he looked back at the pile, he hadn't heard the hay being displaced after he left which means the stranger still hasn't left it. "Desmond, what are you doing? Get out of the hay."

Still nothing, so Altair activated his vision and found there was no glow from within the pile.

Desmond was gone.

———

Desmond was not gone. He had jumped and landed perfectly in the hay but physics just didn't work the way he expected. Instead of being engulfed in prickly hay he was swallowed by blush pink petals. Desmond blinked, his sense of smell slammed with the scent of crushed flower petals. Poking his head out, he took a good look around himself. Gone was the blistering heat of Jerusalem, the air was crisp and cool. Leather shoes click on cobblestone tiles and a church bell chime in the distance. The civilians were dressed with rich colors and decorated with embroidery, delicate lacings on the hem of their sleeves. They looked like renaissance fashion, if he was remembering the photos Shaun pinned to the cork board correctly.

He remembered this place, how could he not. Desmond had been following this assassin's life for a very long time.  
  
This was Ezio’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and uploaded this through my phone... I am so sorry if the formatting is borked


	8. Trying to make amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to write this during my free time at work, and this week was really busy. So I apologise if I made any mistakes, I didn't check for errors this round

It was late in the afternoon when Desmond arrived in a cart of petals in Florence, he did not leave the pile until much later when the sun was setting. During that time Desmond lay in the petals pondering and trying not to freak out. Minerva must have done something, why else would he be in this situation, magically thrown back in time. Was it the pen, was Minerva aware of its capabilities? Why was it never utilized then? Maybe Minerva will change her message to Ezio now that he was here. The darkness and the fragrance of the petals was comforting, it was a false sense of security and he knew he was here for a reason, but hidden he could pretend all is fine.

Waking up to Altair and Malik in front of him was bizarre, he was disoriented and upset, his unhappiness carried from death to his awakening in Jerusalem. It was not an ideal meeting and no doubt he left a terrible impression just disappearing like that. Desmond wondered if he missed his chance to change history from the beginning, he wondered if he’d be able to make a difference.

When Desmond peeked from the pile there were only a few people milling about in the plaza, he pulled himself out of the cart and dusted the petals of himself. A flash of gold from his fingers and he pulled his sleeves up for closer inspection. His forearms have become almost jet black, the darkness fading to his normal skin at the elbows. Thin gold circuits decorated the blackened portion, almost unnoticeable until light reflects off of it. Desmond rubs his hands together, smooth as silk with practically no friction at all, which is surprising to know since he didn’t feel like his grip was compromised. The modern day assassin poked and prodded his palms until he remembered he was out in the open.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets he ducked into the nearest alley, it was starting to get dark and he needed to find shelter. The air was slightly chilly and he rubbed his hands together while slowly walking about looking for anything useful to keep himself warm, he needed new clothes anyway.

In the end he settled for snatching laundry accidentally left outside, a loose tunic should be enough, no way is he going to wear those breeches and theres no shoes to steal. Which is fine, he doubts the traction would be good anyway. Desmond wandered about listlessly trying to find shelter from the wind but it was no use, the building walls only made the evening breeze easier to channel through the alleyways.

Desmond clambered up a building to get a better look around, the street lanterns dimly lighting up the cobblestone paths. He hopped over a few roofs before eventually deciding to approach a pigeon coop, the birds quietly roosting in there did not seem bothered by the noise he made as he padded closer. It was not an ideal resting place but the crates and the empty space below the platform would help to buffer from the night wind. He huddled himself between the wooden boxes, hastily shrugging off his jacket to pull on the tunic over his shirt as an added layer of warmth. Desmond sat there leaning against the boxes, stressed and exhausted. He pulled his legs up to his chest and used his white jacket as a blanket, watching the last rays of light die out over the horizon while he thought about the people and the life he left behind in the solar flare.

If he is here then maybe Ezio has not become an assassin yet, he could change Ezio's future and let him live his life as a regular civilian. Desmond's gut twisted, thinking about how Ezio's family was broken and his life completely upturned. Remembering Ezio's mother and the lost look in her eyes, remembering his family hanging limp on thick fibrous ropes. Running footsteps distracted Desmond from recalling Ezio's moments of grief and he would have ignored the noise, but he was reminded of a memory. A time where Ezio was dressed in white and red, running through the streets of Florence in the late night towards...

Desmond pulled himself away from his shelter and peered over the roof out of curiosity.

It really was Ezio; dressed in white and red, and he was running to the direction of where Uberto Alberti lives.

This is it, Desmond can stop Ezio and tell him that Uberto will betray his family. He could even kill the grandmaster; Rodrigo Borgia, who is in Uberto's house right now. Ezio's family won't be hanged and Ezio can live his young life to the fullest.

Tying the white jacket around his waist he ran across the rooftops trying to catch up to Ezio. By the time he caught up he was out of breath and Ezio was already delivering the letter to Uberto. Desmond hunched over trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible while listening in to the conversation. While the two Italians were conversing Desmond started to have doubts. If he saved Ezio’s family now and Ezio doesn’t become an assassin what will happen to the future of the brotherhood? Ezio was crucial to the development of the brotherhood, so if his role was taken out it could have serious consequences. The Templars may be in disarray if he took out Rodrigo now but the faction is efficient, they will find a new grandmaster. Desmond peered over the ledge of the roof, watching Ezio thank the man and turn to leave.

Sighing quietly he looked up into the dark sky, there was no way Ezio would listen to him and he was not creative enough to make up a believable story. Desmond stood up and turned to leave, no longer following Ezio. He knew he couldn’t convince Ezio, but he might have a better chance with his father in the tower. Now he just needed to find a way to free them.


	9. Free running

Finding the tower was easy, knocking out the guards to steal the keys was easy. Climbing up the stairs to the top of the tower where the prisoners were held was not, by the time Desmond climbed to the top his legs were shaking and he had to sit on the last few steps to catch his breath. That was embarassing, and the prison door was within view from the stairs so Giovanni could definitely see him, and he did.

“You do a poor attempt at looking like a local.” Giovanni notes as Desmond hauled himself up to his feet and wobbled forward to stuff the key into the keyhole. 

“Yea well, maybe I'm not trying to blend in.” Desmond grumbled defensively, he was having trouble getting the rusty key to rotate and he was afraid to be rough on it in case it broke.

The lock finally clicked free and the young assassin made a small noise of triumph as he pulled the prison door open for the Auditore family to exit. “Come on, let’s go.” Desmond gestured them to leave but Giovanni did not move, Federico who was in the cell too looked at his father quizzically.

“As much as I appreciate the help I do not know you, forgive my lack of trust.” Giovanni inclined his head at Desmond, “who are you really and why are you helping.”

The young assassin looked uncomfortable, who knows how Giovanni would react. The animus skipped a lot about Ezio’s family, he could only tell that Ezio loved them dearly. “I was an assassin a long time ago,” Desmond answered, as honestly as he could without making himself even more suspicious. “I left it when I was very young but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to the brotherhood.” Alright so maybe the last bit was a lie, he didn’t really think about the brotherhood at all after he ran away from the farm. “Look, I know you want answers but your family is in danger. You need to get out of here.” It was clear Giovanni still didn't trust him and Desmond might have made himself even more untrustworthy. Leaving the brotherhood while young and yet still very aware of the assassin-templar sitation? Yes, he was getting inconsistent.

Giovanni in the end decided not to press further, and took a step forward to the door. Sighing in relief Desmond let go of the prison door so it would swing further out and turned to the stairs. Federico and Giovanni were speaking to each other quietly in Italian, but Desmond chose to ignored it.

The guards he had knocked out remained unconscious, leaving the group to freely exit the building. It was only a matter of time before all this would be found—Nevermind he can see guards shouting and running at them already. The young assassin whipped his head to the others, “go, I can buy you some time.”

Without a word the family turned to run back home but Desmond grabbed Giovanni’s arm and Ezio’s father look at him sharply. An assassin being grabbed is and has never led to a good outcome, it was natural for Giovanni to be on his guard at the contact. Desmond hesitated for a brief second, he’s on an unknown path now, whatever decisions and outcomes he makes will very likely make a difference to the future now. “I don’t know if I’ll see you guys again but do me a favor?” Desmond wasn’t asking of course, he was going to try to make a demand. “Teach Ezio about the brotherhood.”

Giovanni simply gave a thin smile, “I had planned to.” 

Albeit surprised, Desmond let him go. He couldn’t remember if Mario had mentioned it to Ezio or if Shaun talked about it. “Uh, great! That’s great...” He trailed off awkwardly but the approaching guards saved him from making the conversation any more awkward. Desmond faced the guards and Giovanni made a hasty retreat.

\---

The smell of salt and ashes was strong in the air. Yet, there was no fire in sight, it had been put out quickly but the acrid smell remains in the air. Sailors conversed amongst themselves as they carried barrels and various cargo off a British ship they had just attacked. The sun was shining happily above the Jackdaw, overall it was a good day for the pirates.

Meanwhile, Edward was helping his men by doing his own plundering in the captain headquarter. He made a small sound of triumph as he yanked out a bottle from the drawers, nobody gave their captain a look as he swaggered out of the room with a bottle of alcohol.

It was just a typical day.

The captain made his way back onto the Jackdaw and to the steering wheel, moving closer to the wooden railing so he could lean forward and idly watch the crew while drinking. He should probably do some upgrades once he is back on land, a little bit more reinforcements to the infrastructure of the ship would do the Jackdaw good in the long run.

A yelp and a splash nearby made Edward roll his eyes, no doubt someone had their cargo bumped out of their hands when crossing the bridge between the ships. "What did we lose?" The captain called out as he dragged himself away from the railing, leaving the bottle behind. The men busy with moving the cargo about between the ships looked at him sheepishly. Before Edward could say anything Adewale had walked up next to him, "Captain," he called patiently. "I have found something I'd like you to see."

The pair walked across the main deck, away from the British ship to the other side where some of his men fished out a body from the water and laid it on the wooden floorboards.

Edward simply gave Adewale a bland look, seeing dead bodies floating in the water after a battle was normal, he didn't see the point of this. "Look properly," Adewale urged to him. Heaving a sigh as if it was a great burden the captain squinted. It was a body of a man, looked very ordinary; tunic and pants with a white sash at the waist, although a bit strange looking. Edward knew his men and this one did not look like one of his, were the British keeping slaves? No, he saw no slaves on the ship. Honestly, what does it even matter, so there was a body that seem out of place, who cares.

The captain looked up and was about to order his men to toss the body back off when he glimpsed a sharp flash of light from the body. He stared at the body again. The ship swayed gently and when the light hit just right he could see thin bright lines reflecting off from the man's blackened arms. The lines looked familiar, only a few would recognise it. "The arms look weird," was all Edward commented as he took a few steps closer to crouch in front of the body for closer inspection.

He poked the arms a few times in various areas, the body was still warm though slightly chilled from being in the water. "Well, it's a shame we didn't get him in time. He probably just died."

Just as he said that the body jerked and the captain leapt back as the now conscious man rolled over onto his stomach to cough out liquid gold. Edward stared at the gold, then at Adewale who looked just as stunned.

"Where...Where am I?" The stranger mumbled, weakly pushing himself to his knees and looking around at the various expressions the pirate crew was giving him. "I'm on a ship?" He asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. 

That short moment of the stranger taking the spotlight of attention gave Edward enough time to compose himself. "You're on my ship," he spoke, "which means you're talking in the presence of the captain. So, who are you?" Edward received no reply for a bit, the stranger eyeing him warily before answering, "Desmond."

Well, nothing really particular about that name stands out. Though this Desmond guy is definitely something, best to be careful. Edward crossed his arms as he scowled at the man kneeling before him, "So... Desmond."

"Is that real gold you vomited out?"

The exasperated noise coming from Adewale and Desmond's alarmed expression nearly made him crack up.

Adewale was busy holding the steering wheel and having a discussion with one of the crew members when Edward was suddenly next to him, fuming as he practically clawed the wheel from the quartermaster."Did you just leave him in your headquarters?" Adewale raised an eyebrow at him.

"He knows things regarding templars but he isn't telling me." Edward hissed through gritted teeth, and that put Adewale on his guard too. "What does he know?" was all the quartermaster asked but Edward shook his head, glaring out at the sea. "He thinks I am a templar, but he won't tell me why he thinks so. He's not from around here, you and I can tell. I've never seen clothes like that and those arms, those arms don't look human." 

Adewale made no further comment as they stood together in silence for a bit.

"I did not tell him I was an assassin." The captain muttered, Adewale simply nodded. "We do not know who's side is he really on, it is good you did not tell him... Will you share what you know of Desmond?"

Edward just shrugged, "His name is Desmond Miles, he has no idea how he got thrown into the water or where he even is. It's obvious the markings on his arms are definitely from the Ones Who Came Before but he wouldn't tell me more-"

"He's coming out of the headquarters."Adewale interrupted as Edward peered over the wheel to see Desmond slowly walking out to the deck.

\---

When Desmond was left in the headquarters, the young assassin frantically tried to collect his thoughts together. What had happened? He was fighting some guards so Giovanni and Federico could get away, eventually he himself was outnumbered and tried to make his escape. Desmond made it to a large body of river channelling through the town and tried to dive into it, and now he's on the boat.

He rubbed his right arm absentmindedly, how was Ezio and the others doing now? How far ahead or behind has he leapt in time? Did his visit to Altair even had any effect, even though it was brief?

Was it the leap of faith that kept throwing him into different eras?

That was a thought wasn't it. Desmond hesitantly inched forward to the exit, but hearing no sound of footsteps approaching he mustered enough confidence to push the door and walk out in the open.

The crew seem busy enough, all working on something and too busy to notice him. Desmond looked around with a bitter smile, if only this was the case when he escaped the farm. He didn't want to dwell on the past too much but he really needed to find someone who could help him get his head screwed on, the assassin was still time travelling about like a headless chicken, running around without a goal in mind.

Desmond looked portside and walked closer to the edge of the ship, vaguely aware that the captain and quartermaster was watching him from the poop deck. Sea water lightly sprayed onto his face as he tried to peer over the edge, and now the captain was walking towards him.

Taking one look at Edward who was halfway down the stairs, Desmond scrambled up onto the ledge of the ship. Without hesitating he took a leap into the water as the pirates around him shouted in alarm, but the noise was all washed away as water rushed past him and the world went dark.

\---  
When Desmond came back to consciousness he was hacking gold liquid out again. Grumbling, the assassin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand again. Eventually, he will have to figure out if he is going to be coughing out shit everytime he looses consciousness. He was pretty certain he did not knock himself out when jumping into the hay pile with Altair and teleporting to Florence, there must be a reason why now.

Poking his head out, Desmond finds himself in a hay cart once again. Well, at least he still has the clothings he stole. It look like he has jump back into renaissance period again, so it must be Ezio's time. Albeit excited he hopped out of the cart and started walking around, soon he started climbing the roofs to get a better idea of the location he was in.

Tiber Island, interesting. Did the Auditore family decided to move their base of operation here? A movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye and Desmond watch a stranger hop off the roof into an alley. A thief? Has the brotherhood allied with the thieves already? Ezio moved to Tiber Island when he was at war with the Borgia, but history has changed now. The assassin debated following the thief but dismissed the thought, if the brotherhood has really moved here then Giovanni will probably send someone to fetch him.

So, he decided to walk along the rooftops and experience the renaissance era in person.

During his little exploration he was not approached by anyone; those that seem to 'recognise' him would make haste to pass the message, mostly thieves slipping out of his sights no doubt to tell La Volpe about him. Satisfied with his own tour around the place he walked into a more secluded area just as Ezio dropped down in front of him.

Taking a step back Desmond watched the master assassin gracefully raise himself to his full height, it was Ezio Auditore in the flesh. Desmond blinked, not saying anything. Words are difficult, and to find oneself in front of a master assassin; one of the few who changed the brotherhood greatly in the past, saying hello seem so absurd. Luckily for him, Ezio took the reigns.

"You are Desmond?" His ancestor asked, and Desmond simply gave a curt nod. "Ezio, it's... Nice to meet you." Desmond responded lamely. The master assassin continued to observe him through his hood before continuing, "my father, and the goddess. They spoke of you."

The way he spoke of him, there was a slight reverence but also bitterness. It had Desmond frowning a bit, "yea, I guess they would talk about me." The modern assassin looked about a bit, seeing some of the curious thieves and other assassins darting out of sight. "I guess you have questions, but I can't promise you I can answer everything. Sorry." He gave Ezio an apologetic look but the other man seem to have expected it, "we will talk somewhere safer, lets go."

Desmond was taken straight to the assassin's guild, but there was no sign of Giovanni or Federico ever since he entered the guild. Even when Ezio ushered him into a quiet room, he had expected Giovanni to be in the room or even Federico to greet him, nothing. "Where is..." The assassin started, looking around expectantly,"your brother? Or your father?" The was no reply and when Desmond turned to look at Ezio his heart sank at that expression, his eyes may be hidden but the way his jaws were clenched so tightly was all it needed to confirm his fears.

"Dead."Ezio answered quietly, "they made it home but the guards found us as we were escaping." He looked away, his voice a whisper."they were executed on the spot." The room remained silent again as Desmond hung his head miserably, his efforts were for nothing. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled back. unsure what else to say to comfort Ezio. "I'm sorry, I should have-" but Ezio raised a hand to stop him, "no. You did what you believed would be a better ending, I am...glad you tried." It didn't sound like Desmond did much good but it was kind of Ezio to try to make him feel better, even though it should be the other way round.

The pair stood in silence again.

"Moving on is always difficult, no doubt you have already experienced that with the loss of Lucy." Ezio starts and Desmond whipped his head to look at him in surprise. "I know grief can be a powerful emotion, to be at peace after a great loss... Especially if they mean a lot to you, it will take a long time."

"How did... How," he stuttered as Ezio smiled for the first time since their meeting. "I have not thrown away those letters you sent to me, and I believe I owe you a reply." Of course, how could he have forgotten all this started with that pen. Desmond shook his head as he huffed a laugh, "Huh, I didn't... realise they still existed after time travelling back into the past"

Ezio looked at him with slight interest, eyeing the teeth of the zipper on Desmond's white jacket. "Indeed, you are from the future and yet you are here."

"I really am from the future you know," Desmond emphasized and continued as Ezio crossed his arms over his chest as if waiting for further explanation. "I was sending messages to you, Altair and Connor before I met Minerva and Juno at the temple. Then some dumb side of me tried to write a letter on my arm to Minerva and when I activated the temple I just... went back in time." He raised the arm that should have the writing on as if to convince himself he did write it but he just ended up staring at his blackened arm with thin gold circuitry. "Well.. I did write it but I guess it disappeared." The modern assassin looked back up Ezio who pondered at the words but it was clear Ezio could not give any advice about it.

"Well, what will you do now?" The Italian asked slowly.  
Desmond's blank stare was not very reassuring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have lost sight of what I wanted to write for this story so I'm uploading all the remains in this chapter and closing the book on this one. This is my first time writing a story and I've clearly bitten off more than I could chew but I had fun while it lasted. I'll probably write shorter fics to practice for now. To those who have been reading and commenting, thank you very much for the support!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Au/Ra, Alan Walker - Ghost  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DCiUhNn9rc


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